Cursed
by Rayvah
Summary: When Belle was born, her parents made a deal to save her life. They went back on that deal, and brought a curse upon their family. Now, twenty years have passed, and only Belle can strike another deal to make their lives whole again.
1. Chapter 1

**Once Upon A Time: I don't own it, but I can totally OWN it. Get it?**

**(sigh)**

**So, in my other two stories I write a Mr. Gold character, and this will be the first time tackling the more traditional Rumplestiltskin. (Mmm... tackling Rumplestiltskin) It's a lot of fun, actually. I hope you enjoy this. I don't know how long it will be, but not more than 10 chapters I think.**

**This week's conversation w/ friends regarding Mr. Gold. I think we're right.**

**L: I realize I find all of Mr. Gold's earlier scenes in the show sexier than his later ones.**

**K: Why?**

**L: I don't know. I think it was because he kept checking Emma and Regina out and smirking at them in his certain way.**

**K: Haha**

**L: I don't think he does it later. Maybe as an actor, once he learned about the Belle storyline he revised his performance to not be checking out chicks.**

**K: What a Good dude.**

**L: "I _was_ playing Rumplestiltskin as a Ladies Man… but I had to change my game."**

**K: "I may be a sketchy character, but I'm not a Jerk."**

* * *

Belle worried over the handful of dirt she held over the washtub. She scrubbed hard, and little by little the mud fell away from her hands onto the floor, revealing beneath a small tuberous root. She turned it back and forth, rubbing a thumb over it to wipe a bit more of the mud away. It wasn't a feast by any means, but it would do. She set the root aside and took another glob of dirt from the basket next to her.

Hidden within the chunks of dirt were vegetable roots, and the broken off vestiges of the plants that grew from them. Carrots and rutabagas and yams. Belle liked to imagine what it would be like to have the ripe plants themselves here, instead of just the forgotten growths she managed to scrounge from some of her neighbor's fields at night. It was all too easy to close her eyes and imagine the meals those farmers shared with their families - the steaming plates and warm bread. Her mouth watered at the thought of it.

But this small pile of shriveled stems was all there would be for her and her father tonight. Every night.

She often thought about taking some of the roots she scrounged from the surrounding areas and planting on their own land - but the thought left her as soon as she entertained it. If anything could grow on their land they wouldn't be living the life they were now, scrounging, starving, shunned by their neighbors. Everyone whispered it under their breath, and Belle could see it in their eyes as they crossed to the other side of the street whenever Belle or her father happened to go into town.

_Cursed._

Her family was cursed. Currently, that only encompassed her and her father, Maurice. Belle's mother had finally escaped (_succumbed) _to it when she died giving birth; taking Belle's new brother with her. Belle had been ten years old.

Time went by, and now Belle was nearly twice the age she was when she had learned the true meaning of the word _curse. _

The story of how it came to be was not something her father had ever been willing to share with her. Sometimes, when he was deep in his cups, he rambled about an "unpaid price" and them being worse off than when they had begun. It was all very puzzling, and frustrating, but no matter how she tried to coax her father - or once, to her shame, lured him into an even further drunken state than he was generally inclined - he would never say more.

Belle didn't like to think where her father was getting drink when food was so hard to come by. She imagined he took it by the light of the moon from her neighbors still the same way she stole their vegetable roots. And she imagined those neighbors looked the other way because, even if they didn't want her and her father around, they weren't quite willing to directly condemn them to death by robbing them of their only food source.

Belle finished washing the roots and sat up in her chair, beginning the process of pealing them before dumping them into the pot to her right that would later be placed over the fire to stew.

At first, she didn't believe in curses. Everyone fell on hard times at some point or another in their lives. It was cowardice to always blame fate. However, after her mother died, she and her father moved. They traveled for months to get away from the memory of their lost family, in search of a place to settle where nobody had any preconceived notions about them. Belle didn't believe until the new farm they settled on stopped producing food. The cows and goats they procured slowly died of illness - and the villagers began to whisper anew.

_Cursed._

She couldn't escape it. Nor could her father, except through drink - she wouldn't deny him that.

She did want to find a true escape, however. She believed there had to be one - with the same fervency she used to believe there was no such thing as curses. The irony didn't escape her.

Reaching into her apron, Belle withdrew the only blade she owned. An old pruning knife, dulled with age and improper sharpening tools - but it did the job. She chopped the roots as she let them fall into the pot of water. She paused a moment, studying the skin of her hands. It was deeply calloused; rewards of a life spent in toil. She wiggled her fingers a moment, as if she could exorcise the years of abuse she'd imposed on them with a motion, before she continued her chore.

Shifting forward in her seat, Belle bowed her head over the task at hand, allowing herself to be lost in thought. She hadn't told her father what she'd discovered recently - overheard from two of the village women. She'd heard talking, and they hadn't seen her - standing slightly behind them in the marketplace, and dressed with disguise in mind.

_"They say that he murdered his wife, and that's why he ran with his daughter so far away from their village."_

_"Is that why they're cursed?"_

_"Partly. I think they're cursed because his reason was unforgivable. He probably wanted his little daughter all to himself, if you take my meaning..."_

_"That's a terrible thing to say! I heard from the miller's boy that they made a deal with The Dark One and then refused him payment."_

_"Perhaps. They say That one never lets those who owe him get away."_

_"Never."_

Belle had been mortified at the thought that the villagers thought her father was inclined to use her that way. It was idle gossip, but the very idea they could think that hardened Belle's resolve to not regret the lack of contact she had with them.

Talk of The Dark One, however, was not usually so idle. People didn't care to speak of that one, except in hushed tones. No one knew his true name, and it was said if he learned yours he would have power over you.

Which seemed silly to Belle. If you stood for any amount of time in any village square you would learn the names of dozens of people, if not hundreds. Was power so easily obtained?

Not that it mattered. The Dark One was the figment of children's stories, which seldom had to make sense.

She finished with the roots and brushed her hands off, moving the pot over the fire that was already glowing strongly.

Root stew, for the third night. At least they weren't starving.

* * *

The next day, Belle went into town. She was prepared to avoid the eyes and paths of her fellow villagers. She didn't have people to visit, but there was only so much time she could spend in the small house with her father - and Belle liked to watch people, to listen.

Another reason to skirt the market was to collect leftovers. She took a moment to be thankful the villagers policy towards her and her father was more one of avoidance than outright hostility. It could be worse. They seemed to ignore when she foraged through the trash brought out from the stalls, looking for scraps. The village wasn't rich, and even its merchants were taught not to be wasteful. Perhaps she and her father should move to one of the larger cities - where anonymity was easier to come by, and the beggars better fed.

Belle was crouched on the ground, turning one of the less moldy chunks of bread over in her hands, when she heard voices carrying over from the baker's stall around the corner.

"Ella is pregnant. She must be three months at least, now. It's beginning to show."

"She didn't waste any time, then - once her husband came back."

Belle hesitated. Ella was the wife of the local woodsman. Her husband had gone missing in battle over a year ago. It was news to her ears if he was returned - and for months it seemed. Belle frowned. Perhaps she had been avoiding the town too much.

"How was it that he was gone for a year? The ogres don't take prisoners."

Exactly what Belle wanted to know.

"I don't know exactly what happened. The man seems to have no memory of it. Said he got a head wound in battle, then...woke up in the middle of the woods, a year later."

"How odd."

Indeed.

The first person snorted. "Odd, right. It sounds like dark magic to me."

"You wouldn't suggest that _Ella_..."

"Made a deal with The Dark One for her husband? Widows are known to do desperate things."

"It's been a year, though. If it were my Bartholomew that were lost, I'd act sooner than that."

"I'm just offering up my opinion. Now, if you'd like to buy some bread..."

Belle stood, putting the crusts she'd gathered in the pockets of her skirt. What if, like her family's curse, tales of The Dark One were more than just conjecture? She knew she wouldn't be well received, but it seemed like it might be worth it to pay the former widow a visit.

* * *

Belle regarded the small house before her. From what she'd heard, Ella herself had not had things easily during the time her husband was missing. The home was in slight disrepair, but not overly so. The roof thatching was new, and some boards in the walls freshly cut lumber - things that had likely fallen into disrepair in Sean's absence.

Belle rapped hard twice on the wooden door. A muffled voice bid her enter. Deciding to not think too long about what kind of reception she might get, Belle took a deep breath and pushed the door inward. Ella was sitting in a chair by the fire, her hands full with needle and socks in disrepair. She looked up at Belle with a brilliant smile, which quickly faded.

"Oh... it's you." She didn't sound surprised, which surprised Belle. She looked back down at her sewing. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I had a question." Ella turned to her reluctantly, and raised an eyebrow. Belle cleared her throat. "I hear your husband has been found. That's wonderful news." Belle looked around the room "Is he not here?"

"He went to market to fetch a few things." Her eyes narrowed. "Did you come to ask after my husband?"

"No, no. I just..."

"Then please, ask your question and be gone. I'm sure it's not good for the baby to be around someone who..." she stopped speaking and tensed suddenly, her eyes downcast.

"Of course not." Belle's practiced reply came smoothly. "I overheard a rumor in town..."

If possible, Ella's shoulders tensed up even further. She had ceased to sew, but clutched the socks and needle in her hands, still not looking up.

"Yes?"

Unsure of what provoked such a response in the other girl, Belle continued without preamble. "I don't want to imply anything about you, but I heard someone say in the square that they believed you made a deal with The Dark One in order to bring your husband back." Ella looked up and Belle met her gaze directly. "Is it true?"

"...Yes."

"I see." Belle clutched her dress between her fingers. "So he does exist."

"You would know." The girl's voice was slightly bitter.

"Would I?"

"They say your family made a deal with him and refused to pay. It's why you're cursed." She bit her lip, as if wishing she hadn't used the word. Her voice now sounded slightly unsure.

" 'They' also say my father molests me. That certainly isn't true." She stared at the other woman, daring her to argue. "My father hasn't ever told _me_ the story of what curse afflicts our family." She shrugged with feigned nonchalance.

Ella frowned, confused. "Then why are you here?"

"I need to find out how to release our family from this curse, wherever it came from." Belle hesitated. "I thought this might be a fool's errand."

Ella stared forward into the fire, saying nothing.

"How did you call him?"

"I didn't," she replied quietly, her eyes never leaving the fire. "He just appeared. I was in the garden. It had been a year to the day of Sean's disappearance. I wished that he were with me again. It was the strongest I'd ever felt about it, even since it happened. Then The Dark One was just... there. Suddenly. Offering me relief from the pain."

"What did he want in return?" Belle asked softly. Everyone knew that part of the story. There was always a price.

"He didn't say." Ella's voice clouded, her gaze distant. "He said it would be a small price, and that he would collect it at a later date."

"Oh, Ella." Belle tried to keep the reprimanding tone out of her voice. After all, if her family had indeed made the same kind of deal, how could she pass judgment? She continued with her true question.

"So you know of no other way to summon him? Besides wishing?"

"...No." the other girl's reply was hesitant, and something akin to regret flashed across her expression.

Belle swallowed her bitterness. If wishing and desperation were the only keys to summoning The Dark One, he certainly would have come to her and her father long ago. She turned to leave.

"...Belle?"

Belle turned back, surprised. She wasn't used to hearing her name on the lips of anyone but her father. Ella's countenance had changed slightly - fear flashed through her eyes, and Belle waited.

"The Dark One... he told me his name."

"Why?" Belle's eyes widened. She'd always _always_ heard that The Dark One never gave his name.

"I don't know." Ella sounded more miserable than glad, knowledge of the name a weight on her shoulders.

"What is it?" Belle whispered. If she had his name, perhaps she would have a way to bring him to her after all.

"Rumplestiltskin."

* * *

_Rumplestiltskin _

Belle sounded the name over in her head, and rolled it over her tongue, tasting it. It was an unusual name, to be sure - which seemed to befit such an unusual beast.

Walking through the forest back to the small cottage she shared with her father, Belle reflected on the conversation she'd had with Ella. How much power did one wield who knew The Dark One's name? Certainly it couldn't be anything much - or he never would have revealed it to the other girl - or at least would have put stipulations on her telling other people.

When Ella had given Belle the name, the walls seemed to sigh - as though they were echoing her. What did it mean to say the name of The Dark One aloud, really?

Shaking her head, Belle kept her eyes on the road as she walked, paying little attention to the familiar surroundings of the path that led from her home to town. Perhaps she was imagining all of it. She'd followed market gossip to the home of a woman who was traumatized by the loss of a husband then his miraculous yet unexplained return. What kind of stories might a woman make up to cope that that sort of ordeal?

Her small house finally came into view. When Belle reached the front door she stomped her feet on the stone that served as the front step, attempting to knock the road dust from them. Entering, she found her father sitting at the small wooden table that was one of the only pieces of furniture in the room.

"Hello, Belle." He sat, staring forward at nothing in particular.

"Hello, Father." She removed her cloak, laying it over the back of the second chair at the table. She frowned down at the figure of the man occupying the other one. "Are you alright?"

"Did you go to town today?" He acted as though he hadn't heard her.

"Yes." She took a seat across from him, pulling the slightly molded bread from her cloak pockets. "I brought some bread for you." She drew the old pruning knife from her skirt and began to cut the bad parts away from the crusts.

"You are a good daughter. You were such a perfect little girl. Suzette wanted to keep you. She can't be blamed for that."

Belle stopped what she was doing, and slowly lowered the knife and bread, laying them on the table. Her father rarely spoke of her mother.

"What do you mean?"

He looked hesitant - as though he felt he didn't want to say too much - but continued. "You were so small. So...sick. You were going to die. We both knew it." He swallowed hard. "There was a man. He said he could save you. He said..." her father stopped speaking. Belle reached out and covered his hands with hers.

"Said what, papa?"

"He said he would save you if he could have you."

"Who?" Her grip tightened over his hands.

"What else could we have done but agree? Better alive and somewhere else than dead, and buried in the ground."

"Who are you talking about?" Her voice ended on a louder note this time in an attempt to snap him from his reverie.

"I think you already know my name, dearie." Belle's head snapped around, looking toward the corner of the room where the voice seemed to originate. She stood up quickly as she took in the sight of the small man standing there. His skin shone like burnished gold with a slight green tint. He was dressed in what appeared to be leather that hugged his slight frame and ended in a high collar that brushed the edges of his shoulder length hair.

"However, we haven't been properly introduced." He grinned, his blackened teeth showing between his lips. Leaning forward in a deep bow, his arm stretched forward towards her in a style more suited for a royal ballroom than a farmer's hovel.

"Rumplestiltskin is my name." Belle had the ridiculous urge to curtsy in return, but squelched it.

"You." Her father stood as well, facing the strange newcomer. "You look different."

The man smirked, straightening. "Indeed. Well, dress for the occasion as they say." He snapped his fingers, and his garb changed to something Belle felt she was more likely to see on a villager. A long, burlap cloak covered a loose brown linen shirt and pants.

"I feel as though I fit right in." He let loose a high pitched giggle. "I suppose to do that properly, I need quite a bit more dirt covering me." His observations caused Belle to self-consciously finger the torn, stained edge of her dress.

He swished the cloak around him, his mannerisms now at odds with his attire. "Is this how you remember it?"

Maurice shook his head. "You looked more human."

The man's grin turned to a grimace, and his dark eyes took on a dangerous glitter. He looked as though he was about to say something caustic or threatening, and Belle decided to speak up. She stepped forward, placing herself between the strange man and her father.

"So you're The Dark One?" He inclined his head, flashing his maniacal grin once again. "May I ask you a question?" She tried to put as much politeness into her voice as possible, knowing with whom she spoke.

"Obviously." The constant smirk he wore unsettled her. "Ask me another."

"Why are you here?"

He crossed the room, his smooth motions bringing himself face to face with her, as though he was performing his part in some dance.

"I should be asking you that. You're the one who called me, after all."

Belle's eyes widened. "I didn't!"

Her protest parted his lips into an even wider smile. "Oh, but you did. I followed you from that ex-widow's home in town. You whispered my name, over and over." His finger darted out to trace the bottom line of her lip, and Belle inhaled sharply. "I could feel it on your breath. It seemed rude to ignore such continuous pleas."

"You gave Ella your name on purpose. For this."

His eyes seemed mocking as he drew away from her. "And why would I do such a thing?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, meeting his gaze.

The hard glint in his eyes faded, softened somewhat, and he regarded her with a more level expression. "Regardless, I am here - and there is something you want from me. I can sense these things. Luckily for you - you also have something I want."

"Belle" She could feel her father's hand against the crook of her arm, as he pulled her back from the dark figure of Rumplestiltskin. "Don't talk to this man. Nothing but ill comes of it. It was because of him your mother died, and your brother..."

"That's a lie," the man hissed through clenched teeth. "I saved your daughter, and you refused to pay. You ran from me - hired a witch to hide yourselves from me. Magic has extracted it's own price from you and you _dare_ blame me..."

"Stop, please!" Belle exclaimed. The man had been advancing towards her father, who had suddenly looked fearful. His motions stilled at her voice.

"Father, is what he's saying true? And what you said earlier? Did he want to... take me as payment for saving me?" She felt self-conscious voicing the statement when it related to herself so intimately.

"Yes." He said in a pleading tone. "You can't blame us for wanting to keep you. Any parent would." His voice grew softer. "You were such a beautiful little girl."

Belle furrowed her brow, trying to absorb all that had happened in the past few minutes. She wanted answers. "I wish to speak with him, father."

"Belle, you shouldn't..."

"You heard the lady. Let the adults talk for a while." The Dark One waved his hand, and with that flourish her father disappeared.

"What did you do!"

"Fear not. He's merely a ways down the road. We will have time to chat before he makes his way back." Rumplestiltskin used his hands to throw either edge of his burlap cloak over the sides of the chair vacated by her father before he sat down, legs crossed. Leaning back, his posture gave Belle the vague impression of a duke about to hear the pleas of his vassals.

"Now, what would you have of me?"

Belle considered the man, or creature, before her. "Did papa really hire a witch to hide from you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is this the information you wish to barter for?"

"No, I just want to understand what's happening."

"And why should I tell you the specifics of your father's sordid dealings?"

Belle raised an eyebrow, mirroring his earlier expression. "It seems like I'm already part of a deal no matter what happens. Can't you just tell me on faith?"

"That's not what I do."

"I could ask my father. I'm under the impression you'd rather not wait for him to return."

The Dark One snorted. "He and your mother both made the decision to hide you from me. It wasn't unexpected - people often try to back out of these things. Usually they aren't successful." His eyes shone with a dangerous glint. "However, the witch they consulted was extremely powerful. They would have to be. And so, the price was very high."

Belle experienced a slight feeling of satisfaction at having convinced him to part with information he hadn't intended to. She frowned, however, at what he told her. "Do you mean our... misfortune?"

"A lifetime of poverty and struggle? The death of your mother and brother? Misfortune... aye, you could call it that."

She clenched her skirt nervously in her fists. "When they called you to save me... why did you want to keep me?"

He regarded her, his expression intent. Standing, he approached her, leaning forward slightly and peering up into her eyes. Belle backed a few steps away from him but he simply matched her pace. "Now that, dearie, I won't answer." He turned away, looking back down at the table, picking up the knife resting there and fidgeting with it.

"Enough questions." He turned back toward her. "Tell me what you want."

Belle sighed. It seemed she'd run out of time to negotiate, so just spoke. "I want our curse removed."

Tilting his head, he tapped one long fingernail against the knifepoint. "Of course you do."

"And what do you want?" Determined not to look away, she stubbornly met his gaze, trying not to let her fear of his answer show.

"Well, since this all began with a price unpaid - it does seem we should start there." He advanced on her a few steps, and this time Belle didn't back away, but she tensed. His eyes gleamed, and Belle thought she saw the ghost of a smile on his mouth. "But since all the subsequent... misfortune... your family suffered was a result of that. Well, I think we could take some of that off of your tab."

He walked past her and Belle turned to keep him in her sights. He was still toying with the old knife.

"I'd like something I think is rather special to you. Given freely."

Belle felt completely at a loss as to what he could mean. "What?"

More quickly than Belle could react, he closed the space between them, placing his hands on her shoulders. Belle could feel the handle of her knife in his grip pressed against her arm. His face was so close to hers their noses nearly touched.

"Your virtue."

She gasped, pulling out of his grasp and stumbled away from him. He stayed where he was, but his eyes remained on her, watching.

"You... you jest."

"Why so hesitant? Are you using it?" He giggled lightly, that same wide smile across his face, and Belle thought he must be quite mad.

"But... why?" Her mouth opened and closed in an effort to form words, and she imagined she must look like a landed fish.

"Tsk. No more questions." He reproached, his tone playful. "Is it a deal?"

Belle just stared at him for several moments. He couldn't be serious - but, no - he clearly meant all he said. Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow after nearly a minute of silence passed between them.

She look away from him, her eyes on the floor as she gathered her thoughts. She wondered why one such as Rumplestiltskin wanted this from her. How he even knew she was still a virgin, she didn't want to contemplate. Could he simply take her if she refused? Wasn't her life something that was already owed to him?

He wasn't asking her for her life, however. He just wanted her virtue. She almost laughed out loud as that thought hit her. If she thought that was funny she must be nearly on the verge of hysteria herself – what a fine match for him, indeed.

One night given to The Dark One. One night, and a curse that would certainly span her lifetime would be lifted. It was not a bad deal, as they seemed to go.

She finally looked up to meet Rumplestiltskin's gaze, and nodded. "Yes."

His eyes flashed briefly with triumph. Reaching his hand, he disentangled her fingers from where they were once again wrapped nervously around the cloth of her dress.

"The rules declare all deals must be sealed with a kiss."

Belle frowned, and searched her mind for all the tales she'd ever heard of The Dark One and his dealings.

"I've never heard of that rule" she said, as he pulled her forward into his embrace.

"It's new." He whispered, lowering his head and pressing his lips against her own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Once Upon A Time' - but if anyone from the ABC Network is reading I DO have 3k in my bank account I'd be willing to pay for the privilege. And that's a standing offer.**

**Sorry this took so long - hopefully the next chapter will be finished more quickly. Right now I'm working on a fic for 'Rumbelle Secret Santa', which will be out on December 20th. If any of you aren't familiar with it, check out the aforementioned tag on tumblr. We'll be publishing on... you guessed it... December 20th. I don't know if it's too late to get involved. It'll be a treat for all you Rumbelle fans, though! Lots and lots of stories being published that day.**

* * *

Belle tensed in Rumplestiltskin's embrace. Far from being discouraged by her resistance, his arms tightened around her. She could feel the tip of his tongue against her lips, demanding entry as she felt his long nails dig into her back. The feeling was not painful - but it was far from gentle, and when Belle gasped at the shock of it, his tongue darted into her mouth and began to plunder. After a few moments, however, Belle could feel him relax against her - as though managing to make her open to him had been his aim.

Feeling she should respond to his caresses - this was the deal she made, after all - Belle forced herself to relax in his embrace. Easier, now that his grip on her had loosened slightly. She should do something, besides just standing there. She should try to kiss him back, or lean against him. Touch him...

Rumplestiltskin pulled away from her, and the moment of decision passed. He stared down at her, his eyes alight with mischief, and a certain intensity Belle couldn't put a name to.

"A promise, then."

"Yes... what?" She frowned in confusion.

"You're virtue is mine, whenever I should deem to collect it." He let loose a small laugh, stepping away from her.

"Whenever? But... not now? Tonight?"

"Oh, no dear - I'm flattered to hear you're so eager - not that one could tell by your frigid stance. Not tonight. You didn't mention a time frame. I assumed..." he gave a theatrical wave of his hand, "it didn't matter to you."

Belle gawked at him, annoyed that he was assessing her passion, and angry that he failed to mention this part of their deal. Being under a long term obligation to The Dark One was not what she wanted. She wanted free of her curse - this was yet another burden.

"Well, when?"

"Oh, don't worry. I will come for you." He chuckled softly and stepped forward, running a hand down the side of her hip, causing Belle to take a tumbling step back. "Until I do, you'll not let any other man have you. Or woman." He smirked. "Until that day, Belle, you're mine."

"Bastard." She ground out through clenched teeth. He put a finger under her chin, tipping her anger filled eyes up to meet his.

"Why so glum? Your curse is now lifted. In fact - I have a feeling if you and your dear father head over the hill into the next village you'll find a mill on the outskirts that would be glad to take you in as help. No more being turned away by anyone."

"The next town? Can we not stay here?"

"You may stay," he studied his nails in an uncaring manner "You'll meet with good fortune no matter where you go." He looked up at her with a penetrating gaze. "Do you want to stay?"

Belle hesitated. She wasn't attached to this place. If she and her father were to have a new start – it would be better to do it somewhere new. However, she did not like this man... this creature knowing all of her answers for her.

"...No."

"Well that's settled, then." He clapped his hands, and spun toward the door - though if he were actually planning on leaving through it instead of simply disappearing Belle couldn't guess.

"Actually, it isn't."

He paused, his back toward her - then turned slowly and looked at her with a knowing, expectant look on his face. He was quite a conundrum, this Rumplestiltskin. He'd come to save her, and to ruin her. He offered her a deal to end the curse on her family - he gave her the choice to end it – but only on his terms. It really was no choice, though, and he knew it. And for what he had tricked her, and kissed her, and accused her of being frigid. She never did like feeling helpless, and no one liked being mocked. It angered her into action.

Belle stepped forward, and before she could stop herself or even think about what she was doing, she pressed her lips and body against his - grabbing his arms with her hands to pull him firmly against her. She didn't have any experience with kissing - besides what Rumplestiltskin himself had just generously provided – and so she tried to emulate what he'd done, running her tongue along the length of his lips, tilting her head slightly. She felt clumsy, but her annoyance with him pushed her past caring, and she simply pressed her lips harder against his until his mouth opened under her advance, much like she had done for him earlier. She heard him groan softly, and could feel the exhalation of his breath against her cheek.

At first, Rumplestiltskin remained unmoving in her embrace. It was difficult to tell if he was doing so from shock or simply to make a display of indifference. Belle felt a sudden desire to make him respond. She wrapped one arm around his back while one hand moved to his chest. His lips began at last to move against hers. She slipped the hand on his chest underneath the cloak, and his shirt. She felt her fingers brush skin...

Rumplestiltskin stepped back from her, pushing her to arms length.

"That's enough, dearie. No need to prove you're acceptable. We already have a deal." His words and voice were light, but his expression held no teasing, his eyes dark.

"Are you certain? You seemed a bit frigid." Belle wondered at the wisdom of antagonizing The Dark One, of course - but she still stung from his earlier remark and couldn't pass on the opportunity to feel more equal to the man who now owned her virtue.

He smiled, and bowed.

"Quite certain, my lady."

And then he was gone.

* * *

"Papa, wake up. It's time to go."

She and her father had prepared to leave town the day before - packing their meager belongings into a few rucksacks that could be easily carried. It would take several days to reach the destination Rumplestiltskin had indicated. There was no need to inform anyone they were leaving. One of their neighbors might be morbidly curious enough to come check and see if they were dead, and at that point their old home would find new occupants. Belle shook her father awake.

"Is it time already?"

"Yes. It's nearly dawn - and we have a long day of walking ahead."

"Alright... give me a bit."

Belle stepped outside to grant him privacy to dress and prepare. She stood in front of their house and looked up at the sky, studying the stars as the fingers of dawn slowly crept forward to claim them . Home had changed so often in her brief years - but the stars never did. She always took comfort in that, and looking up sometimes felt like a home of sorts. A solid, unchanging thing.

The door to their cottage opened, and her father stepped out - quicker than she expected. He gave her a brief nod, indicating he was ready to depart. She stepped back into the house to retrieve her bags, then shut the door without looking back.

* * *

The wagon ride was bumpy - but Belle was amazed that they'd even managed to happen across a wagon that was willing to let them. Usually people avoided or passed them by.

_All Rumplestiltskin's doing. _She thought darkly. It was hard to maintain any true pessimism at the thought however, when presented with her first evidence of being able to live a life not in avoidance of others. They'd talked with the driver. Joked with him. Belle remembered the man as someone who occasionally road thru town on trade business. She was almost certain he knew her and her father for their family's reputation - but they all pretended otherwise.

"So, where are ye goin off teh?"

"There is a mill a ways from here. I heard they might be looking to take on workers."

"Oh aye? And where did ye hear that?"

"The Dark One told me."

The driver glanced sharply back at Belle's nonplussed face, then let out a huge guffaw, throwing his head back as his hands tightened about the reins.

"Oh, that's eh good un. Da Dark One be in th' business o findin' part time work fer farmers now, eh?"

Belle smiled, the trader's good humor infectious. "I suppose it does sound funny."

"A bit, aye." He grinned. "But as et so 'appens I know tha miller - tis on mah trade route, ye ken? And he 'es lookin fer a few good workers. 'ard workers."

"I can work hard." She spoke softly, but her voice carried over the sound of the wagon wheels on the rocky terrain. The trader's gaze shifted over to her, his eyes thoughtful, and she knew he was considering her and her father's ragged appearance.

"Aye, lass. I believe ye can." He turned his face back to the road, and they road for a bit in comfortable silence.

Maurice slouched against the side of the wagon, his head tilted back and mouth open. He'd been sleeping for the past while - though Belle couldn't fathom how he did it over this rough trail. She let her gaze sweep over the fields. She'd never traveled this direction before, and though it was only a few day's journey, she was surprised at how quickly the landscape changed from thick forest to a sweeping sort of grass that seemed to stretch on for miles. She even saw some people working fields in the distance as they road, but it was too far to make out much more than that.

Slowly, the constant motion of the wagon began to lull her, and she let her thoughts drift. As apprehensive as she was about her deal with Rumplestiltskin, the idea of being 'uncursed' - of living a normal and plentiful life - was beginning to take. She felt hope inside for the first time, and even though she didn't know what exactly the future held, it gave her a sense of peace.

Closing her eyes, Belle found the same rhythm with the cart that her father had, and drifted to sleep.

* * *

The days passed quickly, but each seemed to be a significant event all on its own. Even though it was just wagon travel, it was the start of a new life - and Belle knew she would always remember it as such. The driver was kind - providing them with blankets and food during their time with him and wouldn't hear any talk of recompense. He talked with her father of things Belle was too young to remember, and when he noticed her becoming particularly melancholy, would regale her with tales of his travels.

The day they came to the mill, Belle was sad to see him go. She assumed he would be visiting the farm with them since it was, as he said, on his trade route. He merely shook his head and stated he had no business there that day when she asked of it. Belle watched him ride away until the wagon was out of sight over the hill.

It was only after he was gone that she realized she'd forgotten to even ask his name.

* * *

The mill itself was in a word, quaint. It was made of stone and nestled so close to the river, it could almost be part of the bank. The moss growing up the edges of it only solidified the idea that if left alone for any length of time, that nature would reclaim it. The wheel of the mill spun slowly, as if it were tired of churning the water that had been its lot since it was erected. There were more trees about this close to water - but the land still maintained the openness of the wheat fields they'd passed on the way.

The miller and his wife were exceedingly grateful to Belle and her father for coming to work with them. With the harvest season fast approaching, it was important for the mill to have extra help, and somehow they'd been unable to find workers this year. They only had a few other people at the mill, including their son, Galen. Their arrival was perfect timing. Of course it was.

Maurice's knowledge of mill operation far outweighed her own. He was a farmer, but had always had a love for tinkering. Belle remembered him mostly now from the sad years after her mother and brother's deaths. He never did more than he needed to get by, and so had never thought to teach her his love for devices and building.

He seemed more excited than Belle could recall ever seeing him as they both followed one of the farmhands out toward the mill. She felt a pang in her chest as she had a fleeting thought of what all the years with her father would have been like if he'd been happy. She almost felt resentful towards him at the thought, but dismissed the feeling, her lips set in a firm line. What mattered was this moment, and all the moments after.

Satisfied that her father was well in hand, Belle pulled her cloak more tightly to her, suddenly chilly. Her father had a place here - she wondered what hers would be. She turned and walked towards the farmhouse to seek our her new employers - hopefully to find out the answer to that very question.

* * *

Wandering towards the main house, Belle spied the form of a man leaning against a fruit tree. He appeared to be watching her. Though she felt disquieted, she hesitantly turned towards him. There was only one person she knew about that she had yet to meet.

This must be the millers son.

He took her look as invitation to approach. As he pushed away from the tree and came towards her, Belle could see he was taller than her by several inches, with short light brown hair and eyes to match. His smile was hesitant but genuine.

"Hello. You must be the daughter of Philip's new assistant."

Philip. That must be the farmhand's name. Belle nodded hesitantly.

"Maurice is my father. We are both to work here. I'm... not quite sure what my place here is yet."

He appeared thoughtful for a moment. "Well we have been needing someone to help with threshing. The farmers are supposed to do it before they come, but when they are trying to get their grain to us quickly they aren't always as thorough as they ought to be. We are the only mill for quite a long ways. You would think it was a race each season to see who can bring their crop in first." He smiled and Belle returned it with an uncertain one of her own. She knew nothing about this business, yet.

"I'm Galen."

"Belle. You're... the miller's son?"

He chuckled. "That would be me. The Prince of the Mill." He grinned.

His eyes flickered towards the mill, where she'd just come from. "Would you like to see the threshing floor?" He sensed her hesitation. "I know you'll most likely be spending more time than you care to, but you should see it before it's covered in grain."

Relenting, Belle allowed Galen to lead her down towards the river and the mill. She nodded to her father and Philip, who were working on the millstone and large dowel attached to it. She and Galen walked past them and up the steep stairs and to a small ladder, which lead to the very top room.

"Here it is."

As she cleared the trap door that covered the ladder, she took in the look of the room. It was mostly empty, stacks of burlap sacks in the corner, obviously only awaiting the start of the season to end their disuse. Galen walked towards the far wall of the room which was occupied by a set of closed doors.

"I enjoy spending time up here in the off season - as much as I hate it otherwise." He chuckled.

"What do you mean?" she looked at him askance.

"Threshing is hard work. It doesn't require as much muscle as some of the other jobs, but it's endless. However..." he pulled the doors open, "you get one hell of a view."

Belle gasped at the sight that greeted her. The building was elevated enough that from the top you could see the land stretch for about a mile until it reached the edge of the wood. The green grass and blue sky made it seem like she was staring into a painting.

"It's beautiful."

He nodded, leaning against the wall and gazing out. "Its a wonderful place to come and think. All the benefits of going out into the fields without having to be worried about getting caught in the rain."

Belle began to relax, enjoying Galen's easy manner. "So what do you do up here...besides think?"

"Read. Or carve. Carving almost always goes hand in hand with the thinking, though. With my hands busy, my mind is more free to wander." She certainly understood that. Galen went to one of the bags in the corner, moving it aside reveled a small box. He opened it, pulled out a few pieces and turned to show them to her.

"I've been working on these recently." In his hand was a beautiful small mouse and what looked like a horse, but it was still half encased in the wood.

"I like to think of it as freeing the image from the wood, instead of cutting it into something. I never know what it will be when I start." His eyes sparkled as he looked at her.

"They're lovely." She breathed in, reaching out to touch the carving of the mouse, which was so detailed that had it been a deep gray she could believe it might actually jump out of their hands and escape into one of the many crevices of the loft.

"Thank you." His eyes were turned away from her, seemingly embarrassed at her praise.

Then, Belle heard yelling coming from the direction of the main house. Galen sighed. "Feel free to look around. I need to see what they need. I'll come back." He walked back toward the ladder, flashed her a grin, pulling the trap door closed as he climbed down.

Stepping toward the open door, Belle leaned against the frame, her arm resting against the inside wall. If she crept forward just enough the frame of the mill was out of her field of vision. She could almost imagine the view from this height was exactly what she would see if she were bird, flying high over the ground.

"Well, well...it looks as though you're being made to feel right at home." A familiar sing-song voice spoke from directly behind her.

Belle turned quickly, a small gasp caught in her throat. Her foot hit the edge of the loft door and she stumbled. The Dark One snapped his hand out to grasp her wrist and pull her roughly to him and away from the opening.

"Careful. Wouldn't want you breaking. Yet." Reptilian eyes gleamed down at her, a smile she could only describe as a leer shaping the curve of his mouth. She tried to push away, but he only tightened his grip, wrapping his arms around her more securely.

"Now now. Is that any way to thank me? I think I may have just saved your life again. Prevented you from smashing your sweet, pretty little head on the ground below. Even faeries wouldn't be able to put you back together after a fall like that."

"I don't believe in faeries."

A light chuckle escaped from his throat.

"You know every time someone says 'I don't believe in faeries', a faery somewhere falls down dead." His gaze drifted down, and he moved a hand to trail a finger over her lower lip. "Say it again."

She shook her head, and resumed struggling, her body twisting against him. Belle felt his body grow taught against her, his grip unrelenting. Arching her neck back, she met his eyes fully. They were dark - darker than usual, his lips parted. He looked as though he might kiss her, and far from urging him to let her go, her movements only seemed to be exciting him. Belle ceased her struggles.

"Let me go... please." She looked up at him pleadingly.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile that might have seemed self-deprecating if Belle didn't think that sort of emotion was beyond a creature like Rumplestiltskin. He stepped away, releasing her.

He regarded her intently for a moment, before his gaze flickered back toward the trap door from which Galen had left.

"I'm glad to see you're making...friends." He nearly sneered at the word. "But don't forget why you're here, and not starving in a hovel, still. Cursed." His voice became softer at the last.

"So, have you come to collect on your debt?" She met his gaze, but inside Belle was terrified. What if this time, he said '_yes_'?

"No. Simply checking on my investment." He took a quick step forward to her again, and Belle remembered the place she was occupying near the loft door just in time to prevent herself from moving back.

He continued. "I don't want you near that... boy. I know interest when I see it, dear - and it's best you don't encourage him, I think." His smile seemed satisfied. As if he knew she had to comply with his demands.

"Do you not think I can keep my word?" She demanded, glaring at him. "Do you think I'm so weak that at the first boy... first man to cross my path I'll forget about my obligations?"

"I know how young minds work." He stroked one long nail down the side of her face, and she closed her eyes, trying not to flinch. "I've made quite a study of people over the years. Of their nature. Those who think they've found... love... seldom believe obligations should bind them."

Her eyes opened, staring at him. "I'm not like that."

"We'll see."

She leaned forward, but Rumplestiltskin did not back away. He merely smiled as her face came within inches of his.

"You may have say over my body, Rumplestiltskin, but you do not control my life entirely. I'll speak to whom I want. I'll go where I want. You don't own me."

His expression took on a dangerous glint. "You would have died as a baby if I hadn't saved you. And I would not have done so if I hadn't had a use for you. You live _for me_."

She moved away from him again. "Then you're a cruel man."

"Never doubt it, dearie." And with a small bow that seemed almost mocking, he vanished, leaving Belle standing on the threshing floor alone once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**This story should only be another few chapters. And that's good, considering my production rate. We are at least at the halfway point.**

_**Do I own Once Upon A Time or any of it's affiliated characters?**_

**No.**

_**Am I required to post this on each individual chapter of my story and not just the first?**_

**I'm not really sure.**

_**Does it seem ridiculous if that is, in fact, the case?**_

**Yes.**

_**Do I think anyone would notice and yank my story out of cyberspace for some perceived legal threat?**_

**No.**

_**Shall we just move along then?**_

**Yes, please.**

* * *

"When the farmers bring their grain, your father and Philip will cut it downstairs, tie it into bundles, and bring it up here to us. When we are finished with that we take the grain back down for them to put it to the grindstone."

"And what do we do with it up here?"

"I thought you would never ask." He glanced at her and Belle smiled wanly. He took a short bundle from a basket that seemed to be here for the express purpose of teaching. Belle didn't know where it came from, since as far as she knew no farmers had yet brought any crop. He held the bundle with both hands, moving to stand next to a large cylindrical container. To her surprise, he lifted the bundle and brought it down with a loud THWACK into the side of the container. Quite a few grains fell from the stalk down into the container, a few flying over the edge to scatter onto the floor. Galen lifted the bundle and repeated the process several times until the bundle in his hand was mostly bare of the heavy, desirable grains.

"That looks like an excellent way to work off a temper."

"It can be." He smiled at her again, and Belle pressed her lips together, determined not to encourage his good humor. She had felt brave, standing up to Rumplestiltskin and declaring he couldn't tell her who she could or could not speak with. A night's rest, however, had made her rethink the wisdom of her approach. She didn't want to encourage Galen. He seemed nice enough a person to deserve better than being led to believe there might be interest when nothing could come of it.

He took another bunch, beating it against the side of the container. His muscles rippled beneath the thin shirt he wore. Belle looked away, uncomfortable. She'd never had men openly flirt with her. She'd received propositions at times, from men who thought what she had between her legs was worth the risk of being seen with her, but she always put them off. And none of them were as beautiful to behold. It seemed unfair that the first time she encountered a decent man, it had to be under these circumstances. Things were as they were, though. If Rumplestiltskin decided to toy with her the rest of her life, then things were as they _always_ would be. The thought depressed her.

"Would you like to try?"

Her head snapped back up towards him. She glanced at him guiltily, being caught lost in her thoughts.

"Is everything all right, Belle?" There was sympathy in his eyes, but a spark of intrigue as well. He knew next to nothing about her, after all.

"Yes, of course." She straightened her posture, trying to look confident in her answer.

"You're certain? If you need anything, you can ask me, you know."

"I'm just homesick. This is all very new." The lie rolled easily off her tongue.

"Your father told me that your old home was nothing to miss. If you could even call it a home." There was a shrewdness in his voice that belied his kind tone earlier.

"Change is still difficult." She replied curtly. As if it were his business, after all. She flushed, not sure if it was mostly embarrassment at being caught in the lie, or indignation at his questioning. Holding out her hand, Belle crooked her fingers in a gesture indicating him to give her the bundle. Keeping her gaze, he handed it over.

Imitating his motions from earlier, she began to thrash the wheat against the side of the barrel.

_One. _For Galen, for asking impertinent questions.

_Two. _For herself, for lying. For feeling like she had to make excuses to others.

_Three._ For her father, for putting her in this situation and not just letting nature take its course. Maybe if she weren't here her mother and brother still would be.

_Four._ For Rumplestiltskin...

She lost herself to the activity, briefly, and to her frustration.

"I think it's finished." Galen's dispassionate observation cut in.

Belle let her eyes focus again on the bundle in front of her, and not the people she was imagining. It was indeed empty of the tiny kernels she was supposed to be attempting to dislodge.

Attempt and succeed. She handed the bare stalk back to Galen, who took it and put it with the others.

"Well, it looks like you've gotten the hang of it." He said quietly, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Yes." She replied glumly, not meeting his eyes.

"It'll be hard at first, but you'll get stronger."

She glanced up, looking at him skeptically. "It doesn't seem that difficult."

"Wait until you've been at it all day."

"How long have you been doing this?"

He looked away, as if considering. "I started work in the mill as soon as I was big enough to handle the job."

Belle peered at him curiously. "And you've never left?"

"I did. I traveled a few years. Saw the world."

"Why did you come back?"

"This is the closest thing to home I have. It's where I belong."

The concept of home was foreign to Belle. Her home was wherever her father was, she supposed. He was all she had.

"I'd like to see the world."

Galen smiled. "I'm sure you will one day. I can give you the next best thing, though."

Belle frowned. "And what is that?"

"Books." He sounded pleased with himself. "You'll have another week at least before the work starts. I'd be happy to loan you something from my collection."

"I can't read."

Galen looked at her blankly for a moment, and Belle flinched. Perhaps she should have simply pretended she wasn't interested in his books. Her father had never taught her to read, and in the towns they went to no one wanted Belle in their schoolhouses. She met Galen's eyes, unapologetic. So she couldn't read. She'd been spending her time trying to survive. It was nothing to be ashamed of.

She saw something deep stir in his eyes. Anger, perhaps? More than likely it was annoyance. Perhaps he thought she was a simpleton.

"I can teach you."

"What?" Her eyes widened in shock.

"I can teach you to read." He enunciated the words, speaking deliberately and watching her. Almost warily. "I've done it before. For some of the farmer's children."

"I..." Belle hesitated. She'd always wanted to learn to read. It was easy to get on most of the time without it. So many people shared her lack of knowledge, and the inns, tailors, and blacksmiths always made concessions for them with illustrations on their signs. So there would be no mistaking what lay within. Pictures, however, couldn't tell a full story. Well, maybe they could - but Belle had never seen anyone attempt it. She had seen books, though, and had craved the escape they offered. Her mouth went dry.

"Let me think about it." _Yes! Yes! I'll do anything, just teach me! _she wanted to scream, but held herself in check. Like it or not, there was someone else Belle would have to run this offer by before she could accept. She didn't like it. She could feel the anger at the idea of getting permission from The Dark One to learn to read. And why should she have to? It was completely possible that Rumplestiltskin would do something to harm Galen, no matter Belle's intentions or the fairness of it. She turned away from Galen so he would not mistake the spark in her expression as anger towards him.

She could almost hear the man's hesitation. His uncertainty. He obviously didn't know what to make of her.

"Alright. Anytime you like - come find me."

Belle nodded without turning back to him. The trapdoor creaked as he lifted it and climbed down, leaving her alone in the loft.

To be able to read... it would be like a miracle. Without having to sit in the shadows on the outskirts of a fire, catching every other word in a tale - hoping not to be seen. Books are like friends, she'd heard someone say once.

Belle sat down, resting her head against her knees and curling her arms around her legs.

Yes, if she could convince Rumplestiltskin to stop being so obtuse where Galen was concerned... she might finally be able to have some friends.

* * *

"You look like someone with a request."

Belle was at the river, scrubbing some of her old dresses against the rock. The miller had been kind enough to see about getting her some new ones. She turned, not at all surprised to see Rumplestiltskin laying casually sideways on the ground, his head propped on one hand as he studied her.

"I wasn't even looking at you." She observed.

"Ah yes, but I've been in the business of requests for quite a long while - I can sense it. And when someone wants something deeply, it's not only in the expression on their face. It's etched along every line of their body..." his eyes drifted down over her, and Belle was fully aware that the water of the river she was currently drenched in caused her dress to cling to her form. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"You're a perverted old man." She said, pulling a surprised bark of laughter from the imp. It surprised her as well.

"Indeed. Well, you've two out of three right, dear. I won't tell you which." He sat up, looking at her a bit more intently.

"Fine." She gave an exaggerated sigh, and made a show of returning to her chore. A few moments of silence passed before Belle glanced up, to check if he was still there. He hadn't moved at all, still leaning forward slightly. Expectantly.

"You do have a question for me."

"And you are so very interested?"

"Of course. Until our deal has been... consummated, you are for all intents and purposes My Lady. Ask."

Belle worried at her lip. The reminder that he had a claim on her was not the best lead in she could have wished for in this scenario.

"Galen offered to teach me to read." She glanced up at him hesitantly. His gaze was unblinking.

"Ah." He leaned back.

"I want this." She squeezed the damp garment she was holding in her hands, her knuckles white. "I've dreamed of doing this. Of learning." She glanced at him, and whispered, "And as long as I don't behave in any way unbecoming with him, I don't see why it should matter." She took a breath. "Just promise you won't do anything to harm him." There. That sounded a bit less like begging. Belle mentally congratulated herself at saving a slight amount of her dignity.

He gave his reply in a type of sing-song staccato, his fingers bounding back and forth like a conductor for his words.

"You want me. To Promise. Not to hurt the boy. You're. Wanting to spend an _Inordinate_ amount of time with. Learning to read."

"Yes." Belle whispered softly.

"You know." He pressed his hand against his chest. "_I_ could teach you to read."

"You could?" She couldn't keep the skepticism from her voice. It wasn't so much that he could, but that he would offer. Certainly The Dark One had other things to be doing? Lives to be destroying?

"Of course. One snap of my fingers - well, not even a snap," He added with a false grin of modesty "And you would know every word of every tongue, written and heard and danced."

"Oh. With magic." Even to her own ears she sounded disappointed. "And what would the cost be?"

He didn't answer, but simply regarded her, so she continued.

"What about when I wish to learn to cook or swim, or... defend myself against a brigand? Would you offer to magic that knowledge into me as well? There is so much I want to know, it would never end. You would own me completely, Rumplestiltskin."

"That is the general idea, yes." He replied quietly.

"Then I'm afraid I must turn down your generous offer." She felt a bit queasy suddenly. The idea of the price involved in gaining so much, without effort, made her sick to her stomach. Even so, it was not without temptation. In fact, it was so very, very tempting. She could see herself in the perfect circumstances, perhaps... almost... giving into it. Maybe that's why it made her ill. It was too close to truth.

"Very well, then."

Belle paused, not certain she was understanding him correctly. Was he agreeing?

"If you wish to let this... farmer," he gestured, a sneer in his voice, "teach you to read, then so be it. I promise not to retaliate for the time he is afforded in your presence, _if_..." He paused, grinning. "You agree that every moment you spend in his company, you shall spend an equal amount in mine."

She considered. Spending time with The Dark One? It was a surprising request, and one she couldn't entirely figure the reason behind. It was almost like he was lonely. In any case, he'd been making a nuisance of himself often enough with or without her consent.

"What about the mill work, though? I don't know if there would be time..."

He waved his hand dismissively at her words. "It needn't all happen on the same day, dearie. What do you say?"

"I agree."

"Excellent." He probably meant for his wide smile to look malicious, but somehow Belle didn't see it that way. . He hopped up from his seat on the ground, bowing. "For now, I'll leave you to your work. Wonderful to do business with you." And without straightening his position, a cloud of purple smoke enveloped the place where he stood, taking him with it as it dissipated.

Another deal with The Dark One. What was she getting herself into?

* * *

"The letter 'A' is pronounced different ways, depending on where it is in a word, or what other letters it's next to. 'Apple', starts with 'a'. Or, it can sound like it does in my name 'g-A-len'."

She and Galen were outdoors near the base of the same tree she'd seen him standing by the first day she'd come here. The path was near the house and the ground well worn, so that it was flat with enough loose dirt that they could easily use sticks to scratch her lessons into the ground. Galen did have parchment, but it was precious enough that there was no need to waste it for her beginning fumblings. He did give her one sheet with a copy of every letter on it. They were starting at the beginning.

"Your father's name is M-A-U-R-I-C-E. The second letter is still an 'A', but pronounced differently because of the letters around it."

"This is overwhelming." They'd gone over memorizing the set of letters, the different ways they could be written, the different ways they sounded depending on what seemed to Belle like haphazard rules.

"But you're doing very well." His voice was warm. "It takes years to master a written language. Most people never bother, if they can manage their life without it. The fact you're here means you're already ahead."

Belle wondered. Her father could read, she knew, but he rarely bothered. She promised herself that once she mastered this, she wouldn't let it go to waste.

"I think maybe we should break. You can have time to practice." He smiled, winking. Belle blushed and looked down at the scripted paper in her hand, clutching it a bit tighter than necessary. "Tomorrow we'll start with the actual work." He headed off toward the mill, leaving Belle with her thoughts.

He really was a very nice boy... nice man, she mentally corrected herself. He was older than she by a few years, she was sure - and very patient with her ignorance.

Maybe, someday, when Rumplestiltskin was finally done with her, she could find someone like Galen to settle down with. (Oh yes, someone _exactly_ like Galen, her inner dialogue pestered.) She sighed.

Who would want a woman who had been had by The Dark One? It was surely unnecessary to reveal that fact to whomever she married, but the idea of being rejected for what she'd chosen to do was disheartening, and she decided she didn't want to think much about the future at all anymore.

* * *

She took her supplies away from the house and towards the river, stopping briefly by the mill to check in with her father and tell her about the fact Galen was teaching her to read. He seemed well enough, glad she had found something to fill her time.

The spot at the river she was searching for was marked with a large tree that was rooted particularly close to the bank, causing the branches to hang partially over it. It was a lovely spot and one Belle decided she would go to often. She'd gone there the first day she'd needed to wash her clothes, when Rumplestiltskin had found her and needled her until she asked about Galen.

Belle took out the paper Galen had given her and practiced tracing the letters in the dirt, as well as trying to recall words she'd seen and knew and match them to the ones in front of her now. In this way about an hour passed before she was disturbed.

"My my, what have we here? Is that some sort of arcane spell you're carving into the ground?"

Belle cast an annoyed glance over her shoulder, not surprised to see Rumplestiltskin standing over her.

"I'm practicing my letters. And they don't look arcane, they look perfectly fine!" Mostly. She huffed, using her forearm to erase the marks she had made, giving herself a clean slate. Before she'd completely flattened the dirt, Rumplestiltskin snaked his arm out over hers, causing her to gasp as he mirrored his fingers against hers, and curled them forward, prompting her to extend her pointing finger.

"Just like this." His breath whispered in her ear as he directed their fingers to simultaneously trace an 'A' in the dirt, then 'B', then 'C'. The shapes he coaxed her hand into making were elegant and swirling. Smoother than the rudimentary shapes she'd been practicing, and more stylish than the examples Galen had given her.

"I imagine these letters look more like a proper spell than mine do. That is what you do, after all."

He chuckled into her ear, the breath of it moving some of her hair as he continued using her hand to trace 'D' and 'E'.

"I would have thought you'd want me to become frustrated and give up so I'd make a deal with you - but here you are helping me."

"Oh, I have other temptations up my sleeve. Worry not." She could hear the smile in his voice.

She was silent for a few minutes, just watching as he used her to elegantly write out the rest of the letters, his long fingernail creating a sharper line than her fingertip alone would have made.

"The offer still stands, of course." He said at last, when they were finished. He released her hand, allowing her to turn and look at him.

"I'll have to continue to decline."

"Ah, well." He smiled ruefully. They stood for a few moments, studying each other in silence. Belle was aware that he was fidgeting slightly with his fingers. He never seemed to be completely still.

"Thank you." She said at last. He waved his hand dismissively.

"It's just scratches in the dirt, dearie. They'll be gone with the next rain."

"Well... not just for that, but for everything." She looked down at her hands, not wanting to look at Rumplestiltskin as she spoke. "I've been... distressed by all that I've learned about my past. And suddenly being told I was beholden to you. It upset me." She balled her fists in her lap, but kept her gaze down, aware of how quiet the man standing beside her was being. "Thinking about it, though, I realized you were right about one thing - I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. So, Thank you." She finished, finally willing to peek up at him beneath her lashes. He was watching her with an unfathomable expression.

"It's no favor, you know. A price must always be paid."

"Oh, just say 'You're Welcome'." She rolled her eyes up at him slightly.

He blinked owlishly, seemingly off-put.

"You're welcome."

She smiled and stood, brushing herself off as she did so. Turning so her back was toward him, she looked down at the alphabet they'd traced.

"How long do you think it will be before I can read actual books?"

"It depends on how motivated you are. I would say in a few months you should be able to make due with some simple stories."

She sighed. A few months - even though she'd gone her whole life illiterate, it now seemed like forever.

"I could..." He began.

"Don't." She held a hand up, not wanting to hear his offer again to speed the process. He grinned.

"I was going to say that when you do get to that point, I could bring you books. Books not only from far away, but from other worlds. Books that boy wouldn't be able to give you." His lilting manner had returned.

"Books... from other worlds?" Her eyes widened. "I didn't know there _were_ other worlds." She paused, trying to check her excitement. "What's your price?"

"Consider it a gift. A reward for your diligence and steadfastness in the face of temptation."

"Stories from another world? Free?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He smiled widely, taking her hand and bowing low over it, still looking up at her.

"The first one is always free, dearie."

"You think you'll have me so easily?" She smirked, the side of her mouth tilting up.

"I told you I had a few temptations, still." He tilted his head down, pressing a slow kiss to the space between her fingers. The tip of his tongue flicked out slightly at the apex, causing Belle to flush, and clench his hand in hers tightly before she pulled it from his grip. He straightened, the insufferable smile still on his face.

"I'm sorry, have I upset you?"

"Why did you do that?" She sputtered, holding her hand as though it were burnt.

"A kiss on the hand is a gentlemanly gesture, is it not?"

"You're no gentleman." She said, narrowing her eyes.

"Not at all."

She stared at him like he was a stranger. Trying to shake the feeling the deal was more than she'd bargained for, Belle told herself he'd stolen and forced kisses on her before. They just hadn't affected her so. Perhaps he had used magic? The Dark One stood there, fidgeting with his coat as she continued to just look at him.

"I'd best be off, then." He said softly, seeming slightly more subdued, almost distracted. "Until I return to upset you again." He left Belle standing there, cradling her hand as he disappeared once again in a purple mist.

* * *

Belle walked slowly back to the farmhouse, her brow furrowed, lost deep in thought.

What was Rumplestiltskin playing at?

A lot had happened in the past week, and Belle hadn't given herself time to properly think about what the implications of her deal with the Dark One were. He asked for her virtue, and she'd agreed - but he was delaying the completion of that deal. For what purpose? Maybe he didn't want her virtue at all. Maybe he simply wanted to keep her from being with another man? They say he could see the future. Perhaps he saw that children she bore would present him with some sort of trouble. If that was the case, why then not just make the stipulation of their agreement be that she never bear children? As she walked, she pressed two fingers against either side of her nose between her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut. Surely it was folly to try and figure out the motivations of a sorcerer hundreds of years old who could see the future.

Belle had spent a long time by the river, and as such the sun was beginning to set by the time she made her way back to the farm house. She and her father had been provided with a room but she didn't want to go to it just yet. She changed her trajectory to go toward the mill. The water of the river would soothe her mind. Help her think.

There was nothing special about Belle, the poor farmer's daughter. What interest did _Rumplestiltskin_ hold in her?

It perplexed her. Perhaps he simply wanted to be paid. He'd made a deal with her parents and their end was not upheld. He did not allow deals to be broken with him, it was said. Why make the deal to begin with, though? Babies died every day. It was a tragic fact Belle was intimately familiar with. She would have had a brother, once. So the question remained - what was Rumplestiltskin's interest in her, specifically? She sat down next to the bank in the grass, pulling a few blades and throwing them in the water.

He was herding her, there was no question about that. He might claim that she could have gone anywhere she chose, but Belle suspected somehow she would have ended up on this farm anyway. Pushed into spending time with a boy which pushed her into making another deal with The Dark One.

Perhaps it was time she start pushing back. Belle would uphold her end of the deal with Rumplestiltskin, but it needn't turn into more than he asked. She could keep her time with Galen to a minimum.

Or maybe she could just leave. Rumplestiltskin hadn't forbade it. Maybe she could test him.

Then she thought of her father, who liked it here and wouldn't take well to travel. And her reading lessons... she sighed. Giving up the idea of learning to read now that she had it felt heartbreaking. Perhaps after she learned, she could leave the farm... alone. It was a thought.

Or maybe she could just shove Galen into the river when she was done with him. Stay here on the farm without worrying about having to avoid him. The thought struck her completely by surprise, but made her giggle to herself despite it's morbid nature. Or perhaps she could have him shout his reading lessons from over a hill, thus avoid spending time "with" him. It was probably not an effort at skirting technicalities The Dark One would find amusing. However, it amused Belle. She arranged her skirts around her and lay down on the grassy bank, too tired to make her way to the farmhouse. The gurgling of the river was soothing, and smiling, Belle feel asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Once Upon A Time... that's all I've got this week.**

* * *

"Belle, what do you think you're doing?"

Cringing away from the harsh voice, Belle burrowed her face further into the nest of her arms. Why were people yelling at her? She was just taking a nap.

A hand on her shoulder, jostling her toward wakefulness. That voice again. She knew it.

"You can't just be out here at night, alone. Your father is worried about you."

Galen.

Belle opened her eyes, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light from the moon that illuminated the area. Galen's face started to come into focus, but only partly. It was still quite dark. She must have been sleep for a few hours. He'd come looking for her? She'd just laid down for a nap next to the river. It seemed peaceful. Belle furrowed her brow. What he was saying began to sink in.

"Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry anyone."

"This is a strange place, Belle." She could hear the frown in his words. Her mind still fogged with sleep, she attempted to stand - but one of her legs had gone numb from the position she'd lain in, and she started to trip. Galen reached out and steadied her. She leaned into him for support for a moment, then began to sit back down.

"I just need a minute..."

"It's alright, I've got you." He then leaned forward, reaching his other arm beneath her and scooped her up in his arms.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you to bed."

"What!?" She was really starting to wake up, now.

"I assume you'd rather sleep in your bed than by the river. What if you fell in and drown? We'd have to find another helper for the mill. And after I spent all that time training you. What a waste it would be." He was teasing her.

She didn't know what to say, so remained quiet. The steady gait of his walk began to lull her into a half dreamy state, and it seemed only after a few moments, they were back at the farmhouse, and Galen was laying her on her bed in the room she and Maurice shared. Despite what he'd said about her father being worried, she didn't see him anywhere. The house seemed unnaturally quiet.

"Where is he?"

"Out at the mill. He was about to organize a search - and to think you were only feet away. I'll go tell him you're safe."

He pulled back the covers and Belle slid under them, still fully clothed. She didn't feel like rousing herself enough to change. As she began to slip back into sleep, Galen stood to go.

"Galen..." she murmured, eyes closed.

"Yes?"

"What did you mean? When you said this was a strange place?"

There was nothing for a moment, and Belle thought perhaps he had left, or maybe she'd fallen asleep momentarily.

"Nothing, really. I'll keep you safe."

She smiled in the dark, knowing he couldn't see it. It was a nice sentiment, even if it wasn't a promise he could actually keep.

Belle heard footsteps, the closing door, and then fully gave herself over to dreams.

* * *

"These letters are a bit different than the ones I gave you. Did you see them somewhere?"

Belle looked down at the shapes she'd been scratching in the dirt, and realized that the letters she was practicing had more elements of the stylish swirls Rumplestiltskin had shown her than the block letters on the parchment she kept in her skirt. She blushed slightly, as if having been caught doing something illicit.

"I just thought... maybe it would be nice if they looked prettier. Is that wrong?"

"Not at all." She thought she could hear a smile in his voice, but when she looked up at him he simply looked mildly interested in the style of her writing.

"Some of them are actually of an older writing style I'm familiar with. Did someone show them to you?"

"Uh..." Belle's mind was blank for a minute. She could hardly tell him the truth. "No... I just... have seen them before, and remembered, I suppose." There. That wasn't a lie.

"I see."

"I can stop."

"You don't have to." He crouched down in front of her, tracing the shapes she'd made in the dirt with his finger. "I can teach them to you in this style." He looked up at her. "You just have to choose what you want."

"What?" She stared at him. In her mind, it was as if he was giving her the answer to another question entirely. One that had nothing to do with letters.

"This style," he pointed down, "is older. Not many people prefer it - it takes time to master, but the overall affect is more dramatic." He shifted slightly, no longer pointing "The one I showed you the first time is simpler. It will be easier for common usage. Just tell me what you want."

Belle continued to stare at him. She knew she must look foolish. It wasn't a shocking question, but she felt like he was speaking to her own internal dilemma. Make a choice. Only there wasn't any choice to be made. This whole scenario was absurd.

"I'll go back to the other form. You're right, it would be easier - and... and it's pointless to waste another sheet of paper."

She chewed her lip, not looking at him as she studied what she'd traced out on the ground before her.

"As you wish." Galen had moved to stand behind her, and she hadn't noticed. She looked up at him now. He smiled, but somehow his eyes remained carefully blank. As though he was hiding something from her.

Belle gave herself a mental shake. She shouldn't assume he was hiding things. He'd never given her any reason to think that, and a half smile was hardly a reason to start.

"Although... you might want to reconsider." He was studying the shapes in the dirt. "It's a very interesting style. It suits you."

She looked over what she'd written again. The letters simple but stylish. It wasn't exactly a replica of what Rumplestiltskin or Galen had shown her, but rather like a blending of the two styles into something different. Something balanced. In between but not fully either. And Galen thought it suited her.

He had no idea.

* * *

She felt sore all over. There were muscles aching that Belle hadn't had any idea existed. No stranger to hard work, she was surprised that her first day working at the mill was so incredibly exhausting.

The temptation to stretch out on the grass in which she lay was considerable, but it was overshadowed by the pure need to just lay still, eyes closed - curled up and not moving at all. For days. Not that it was an option, sadly. She would have to go through the same routine tomorrow as she did today. Except this time she would start off aching. Hopefully Galen would understand and not expect as much out of her. He must know how she would be feeling - he'd warned her, after all.

It was still daylight, amazingly, even after the full day of work she felt she put in. Afterward, she'd felt the need to go out to the river, by the tree she considered to be "her place". Even though it took a bit of effort to make the walk, the idea that she could go somewhere she knew there would be no one to disturb her was irresistible.

"Hello, dearie. Hard at work as always, I see."

Well, almost no one.

Belle groaned, not bothering to open her eyes to the intrusion.

"Go away," she mumbled unhappily. She was hardly in the mood for their verbal sparring at the moment. She just wanted to be still.

"Tsk. tsk." He was closer, now. She hadn't heard any footsteps but his voice was nearer her level, on the ground. "You shouldn't sleep alone. Especially out here. There could be... beasts roaming the woods."

"I'm well aware of that." She sighed, finally opening her eyes. They met his, which were wide and unblinking, and only inches away. He was crouched low in front of her. She frowned. For a few moments neither of them said anything. Rumplestiltskin looked at her like she was a strange new animal he'd found by chance. She smiled wanly.

"Rumplestiltskin, you must be extremely lonely to keep coming and bothering me in the woods."

He withdrew at that, putting a fair amount of distance between them as he stood.

"I keep quite busy. People are always in need of things they shouldn't have. I'm just here to keep..."

"...an eye on your investment. I know." Belle cut him off, giving him a tired smile when he stared at her. The bone deep exhaustion was giving her a certain edge of carefreeness that felt refreshing. This man... if he was a man... always put her on edge, but her physical state muted it. She could think a little more clearly. She closed her eyes, again, to concentrate more on conversation than on keeping them open. In this state, she felt brave enough to ask him the questions that had been plaguing her.

"Why do you come here? I mean..." she realized that sounded rude. "Why do you want to spend time with me? I'm not interesting or fun. I can't possibly talk with you about anything you don't already know and I..." she furrowed her brow, sighing, "I yell at you. You could take your... payment, and be rid of me. I don't understand why you don't. I'm not anyone special."

She heard no reply. She thought maybe to open her eyes, see if perhaps he'd gone - but she was sure he hadn't. So she waited.

After a minute passed, she was almost certain he must have left, but then she felt a hand in her hair - fingers threading through the tangles that had accumulated. She sighed, leaning into the gesture. It felt wonderful, his hand combing through her hair, sharp nails occasionally scratching against her scalp. His thumb brushed against her cheek, and she finally opened her eyes.

He was close. So close. His eyes looked deeply into hers, and she could see the humanity in them. The pain, the loneliness, the fatigue - all the things that in Belle's experience made up being human. He closed them against her scrutiny, leaned forward slightly and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"You're very special, Belle. There are things you can do that no one else can."

She gave a weak smile. "My mother used to tell me that. But then..." she trailed off. But then her mother died, and took all her motherly reassurances with her.

Rumplestiltskin sat up, his hand stilled but it remained buried in her tangles.

"Did your mother like books?"

"What?"

"Your mother... did she like to read?"

"I don't know. I don't remember us having books, but she would tell me stories." It wasn't something Belle had thought about in a long time, and it surprised her what she remembered as she thought about it. Her mother, holding her, telling her stories. She'd not given any thought to where the stories had come from. Her mother had been a goddess, all knowing.

Rumplestiltskin moved to sit beside her, his leg brushing her forehead. He moved his hand in her hair again, stroking.

"I'll tell you a story. If you promise to behave."

Belle smiled, eager despite her sleepy state. "From one of your other-worldly books?"

"Yes."

"I always behave."

She didn't quite know how, but she knew he was smiling. "Of course you do," he purred. "Do you promise?"

She sighed, nudging closer to him, feeling him tense slightly despite the fact they were already pressed together. "I promise."

"Then our story starts on a road, in front of a book shop. Carl Conrad Coreander: Old Books. This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop, but naturally this was only the way it looked if you were inside the dimly lit shop, looking out at the street through the plate glass door."

"What is plate glass?"

"It's very clear glass. Don't interrupt."

Belle sighed, but assented with her silence.

"Outside, it was a gray, cold, rainy November morning."

"What is November?"

"It's in the winter. What did I say?"

She smiled, but remained quiet this time as Rumplestiltskin recited from memory, or perhaps from a vision she wasn't privy to.

"The rain ran down the glass and over the ornate letters. Through the glass there was nothing to be seen but the rain-splotched wall across the street..."

* * *

Belle didn't know how long Rumplestiltskin had read to her. The story was intriguing, but the soft inflections of his voice had lulled her to sleep in short order, as exhausted as she was. She woke with his voice near her ear.

"You should head home, Belle. People will be looking for you."

For a moment, she was overwhelmed with a quick panic. It was dark now, and she felt disoriented, not knowing how long she'd slept curled next to The Dark One. Common sense told her that her companion would have woken her earlier had it been necessary. Still, she stood up hastily in an effort to right herself, brushing grass from her clothing. Rumplestiltskin remained seated back against the tree, looking up at her with an unblinking gaze. She combed her fingers through her hair, finding it surprisingly free of tangles. She sent a quick glance towards her companion. He'd must have worked out the tangles completely as he read to her.

"Do I look presentable?" she turned toward him completely, holding her arms away from her body, ready for inspection.

"Yes." He replied with a slight quirk of his lips. "If you're presenting yourself as a straw maiden for a poor mill, you have just the right look." He said, leaning forward and picking a stray piece of grass clinging to her skirt.

She sighed, giving him a slightly perturbed look. "Right. Well..." she paused, suddenly feeling unsure. She should wish him goodnight now, she supposed. And thank him for the story, though she may have been asleep for fully half of it. She opened her mouth to do so, but her words deserted her as he shot to his feet, wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, and pressed his lips against hers.

Belle tensed momentarily, but softened as she felt his other arm curve around her waist, gently pulling her against him. His lips were against hers, not forcefully as during their previous kisses, but more exploratory. Relaxed. As though they had all the time in the world, and he was at peace. At that moment, Belle felt like she was just a simple farm girl, stealing a secret kiss with her sweetheart. She released the tension she'd been holding, letting her body yield against his. Rumplestiltskin groaned and pulled her more firmly against him, making her breath hitch. She opened her mouth beneath his, and his tongue snaked in, probing further. Reaching her hands up, she buried them in his hair, scraping her nails over his scalp in an imitation of the attention he'd paid her's earlier. He made a weak noise deep in his throat, slanting his lips across hers, moving them as though he was trying to drink her in. A moment later, he pulled away, his eyes raking over her face.

"Now you are completely unpresentable," he quipped, but his face held no hint of humor, and his breath was labored. He leaned forward and pressed another kiss to her bottom lip, then pulled away, crossing his arms, his body language putting her at a distance.

She ran one finger over her own lips, knowing they must look swollen and well kissed. His eyes traced the movement. It was lucky she had a bit of a walk back to the farmhouse. Her eyes drifted to the trees that led away from the place by the river. It was very dark, and suddenly she felt a bit of trepidation of the idea of walking back on her own.

"Will you walk back with me?"

He looked surprised at her request, but gave a stiff nod. Uncrossing his arms he bowed slightly, gesturing towards the woods, like a gentleman with his lady.

They made their way back to the farm in silence. Rumplestiltskin seemed aloof and tense, but Belle felt at peace, for once. The resistance to the idea of being with him was fading more and more. He was provoking, but amusing and he'd treated her kindly tonight. It made the desire to fight him melt away.

Reaching the edge of the clearing, Rumplestiltskin stopped, turning to her.

"This is my stop, dearie."

"Thank you." She smiled. "For escorting me."

He looked away, mouth frowning. "There's nothing you need fear in this place, Belle. Even if you don't see me. I'll keep you safe."

"Thank you." She said again. And before she could think about it, or he pulled away, she put her hands around his shoulders, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, their bodies a few inches apart. Then, grinning cheekily, ran off toward the farmhouse.

* * *

"You seem quite tired today." Galen commented, as Belle yawned yet again, then began coughing as some of the chaff floating in the air came to rest in her mouth.

"I am quite tired. And sore." She sighed, rubbing her shoulders. She woke up this morning feeling even worse than the day before, if it was possible. It was like all the aches had settled in her muscles as she slept.

"You were out quite late."

Belle paused in her ministrations. "I like to sit by the stream and... think. Time gets away from me. And... I fell asleep." she admitted.

"Falling asleep by the river seems to be a habit for you," he observed.

"Maybe I was a mermaid in another life," she smiled, her lips quirking.

"Hmm. And you think perhaps your underwater kingdom awaits you at the bottom of the river? All six feet of it?"

She waved her hand dismissively, and bent to pick up another bundle of grain.

"If the river lures you so, then perhaps you were a turtle in another life." She gaped at him as he furrowed his brow in the pretense of deep thought. "Or a trout."

"A trout!" She threw the bundle at him, but he smacked it away with a laugh.

"Waste not, little trout. You're going to have to pick that up." He glanced down at the grain laying beside him. Grumbling, Belle walked the distance over to him and bent to retrieve the grain. The muscles of her back and shoulders groaned in protest, as did Belle.

"Why don't we take a break for a little while?" Galen suggested.

They'd only been working with the grain an hour, but Belle readily agreed, already eager to rest. Galen lead her to a patch in the grass still near to the mill, but far enough away that the sounds of labor were barely audible. It was a beautiful day, warm but windy - it caught the tall grass in it's clutches, making it look like waves when a particularly strong gust hit.

"Do you enjoy being here, Belle?" Galen asked.

Belle smiled at him. "Yes. You have no idea what it was like, before. This place is a paradise compared to the way me and my father lived." She frowned, and looked away, worried that perhaps she'd revealed too much. Her aim wasn't to make him feel sorry for her.

"Well, I'm glad you're here." He reached over, taking her hand in his. Belle stared at their joined hands for a moment, unsure of what to do. She didn't want to just snatch her hand away - she liked Galen, but this seemed like preamble to something she couldn't follow through on.

"I'm glad I'm here, too," she continued uncertainly. "You and your parents have been very kind to us. You've been teaching me to read, for which I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am." That she could admit with sincerely. She'd come along well within the few weeks he'd been giving her lessons. The sentences she could read were short, but found she was able to sound out words in the books he'd lent her. Being able to read a book from start to finish seemed like a goal within her grasp. And thanks to him, she was doing it without magic.

"I thought you and your father might think of staying here long term." He'd turned towards her, looking at her pointedly. His eyes were intent, and as much as she wanted to look away, she found she couldn't.

"We... don't have any immediate plans to leave." She replied noncommittally. Her voice tentative.

He let out a sigh in a huff, a smile quirking the edge of his lips. "Belle. What I really want to say is that..." he paused, gathering his breath. "I want to court you. If you'll let me."

Then Belle did snatch her hand out of his, leaning back away from him. "Galen... no. No. I'm sorry. I can't." she turned, and stood. He followed her movement, standing as well - reaching out an arm as if to stop her from running, but he didn't touch her.

"I'm sorry," he said, eyes sincere. "I didn't mean to scare you. I know we haven't known each other long, but I thought - perhaps if we gave ourselves a chance - it could become something more," his gaze was still open, hopeful. Belle didn't want to crush that hope - but she had no choice. Belle felt her heart sag in her chest.

"It won't be." She said with a finality she didn't truly feel. Bitterness once again swept through her towards Rumplestiltskin at putting her in a situation where she had to turn down the first decent person to make an offer to her in her entire life.

"Fine." He frowned, "Tell me why? If you don't want me, just say. I'll leave it alone," his voice had a slight edge to it, and Belle could tell he was hurt by her rejection.

"It's not that, it's just..." she wracked her brain for an explanation that was not an explanation. She could hardly tell him she was in thrall to The Dark One, forbidden to cavort with any other. Then inspiration struck. "I'm already betrothed," she stated, tasting the lie on her lips. It wasn't very far from the truth, and much kinder.

"You are?" he stopped, seeming bewildered. "Then why do you travel with your father? Why haven't you wed?" He took a step toward her, and Belle mirrored him, stepping back.

"Because he... lives far away. He helped me and my father out of our poor situation, in exchange for my hand in marriage. But..." she groped for words, "he couldn't marry me right away. So he asked me to wait."

"Why couldn't he marry you? Can he not support you?"

"No... he could, I think. I don't know why."

Galen stepped a bit closer, standing over her. "If you were my betrothed, I'd keep a much closer eye on you." An fierce expression had replaced his earlier wounded one. He leaned forward, and Belle could read his intention.

"Please... don't," she held up her arms in front of her, putting a barrier between them.

"Belle," he breathed against her lips. "I'm sorry," and he pressed his lips against hers. A chaste kiss compared to the one's she had shared with Rumplestiltskin, but a kiss, nonetheless. She pushed him away, this time glaring daggers at him.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Belle..." he made a move as if to approach her again, but another glare stopped him.

"You have no idea what you've done," she tossed her hair to the side, and marched away, not towards her "haven" in the woods, but to the farmhouse. She had no desire to face either man right now.

* * *

Belle sat on the edge of her bed. Her stomach hurt. It was nearing supper time but she had no appetite for food. She was too nervous.

It was possible Rumplestiltskin had not seen the kiss that had taken place by the mill, but she wouldn't place a bet on it. Somehow, he seemed to be aware of everything she did, even when he was no where nearby. Or at least not in sight. But if he did know about what had happened, surely he knew it wasn't her fault Galen had kissed her. However, it was pretty obviously Galen's fault. What would The Dark One do to him? She might not be happy with his actions, but she didn't want anyone harmed in her name. Then she remembered they had a deal - as long as she stuck to her end of it, Rumplestiltskin wouldn't harm Galen. Supposedly. There must be a thousand loopholes to get around that sort of thing, though.

Belle had stayed locked in her room for the day, not going back to the mill and leaving Galen to make her excuses. Her father had come to check on her and she pleaded illness, which wasn't entirely false. She'd tried concentrating on reading, but found she couldn't.

After having spent most of the day cooped up, Belle decided to venture out again. Walking would help her think.

"Belle." Her father intercepted her. "You're feeling better."

"I am." Comparatively speaking.

"Then come to dinner, love. You haven't eaten all day." His face was full of concern, and Belle didn't have the heart to tell him she had no appetite.

"Alright." She would have to face Galen, but that would have to happen at some point, anyway.

She mentally prepared herself not to panic, not to glare at Galen in front of their parents and workers, and not to think of Rumplestiltskin and what he was going to do.

The table was already set, with most everyone seated around it. Alice, Galen's mother, busied herself bringing dinner out to the table. Belle made a mental note to ask about helping her with meal preparation in the future as opposed to working in the barn. Belle nodded to Philip and Galen's father, George. She offered Galen himself a tight smile as she sat herself at the seat farthest from him. The meal conversation was light, but Belle found it difficult enough to concentrate on putting food in her mouth, at the behest of her father, while also studiously avoiding Galen's gaze. She didn't join in the conversation, but her father made her excuses about being ill. No one was particularly surprised with yesterday having been her first with the backbreaking work of threshing.

After she'd eaten what she felt would be an acceptable amount of food by her father's standards, Belle made her excuses and left the table, praying Galen wouldn't see it as an excuse to follow. She needed to get away, but wanted to go somewhere she knew he wouldn't go. There was a bathing room shared by the family. It had a large wooden tub that was filled with hot water carried from the kitchen for baths, and one luxury - a large square mirror that hung on the wall above a small table. It was tarnished around the edges, probably a cast off from a larger house that had procured a newer and lovelier one. After placing the wooden bolt over the door, Belle went to the mirror, leaning heavily against the table as she studied her reflection. The mirror was big enough to display her to her waist at this distance. She looked tired. So tired. And worried. Of course she was.

Looking back at her own face, Belle tried to project encouraging thoughts to the woman on the other side.

_It wasn't your fault Galen kissed you. You told him the truth... in a way._

_You have a deal. Rumplestiltskin can't hurt Galen._

These two things, again and again until, inside, she actually started to believe them. She felt the knot in her stomach begin to unravel.

_It's not my fault. I have a deal._

She buried her face in her hands, and leaned again over the table, trying to mentally force the tension out of her body.

"It seems you've been quite busy lately."

Belle's head snapped up, and she saw Rumplestiltskin's image in the mirror next to hers, standing just behind. She turned to face him.

"You really should stop sneaking up on me like that." She looked down and away from his gaze.

"Why? Afraid of being caught doing something improper?" His hand came up to cup her cheek, turning her eyes to face him. A thumb traced over the edge of her mouth. She stared at him, eyes wide, and remained silent.

His eyes moved back and forth a moment, studying her. "The boy has grown quite fond of you." She didn't reply. "He was a bit forward, though, wasn't he?" he asked softly.

"It wasn't..." she began. He moved a finger over her lips.

"Oh, I know. You told him as best you could about our arrangement, didn't you? Good girl," he patted the side of her face, smiling. It had an almost maniacal edge to it right now, though, and she moved away.

"You... promised you wouldn't hurt him. We had a deal," she looked at him, willing him to concede to his promise. "It won't happen again. I'll stop spending time with him," she swallowed.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry much about that, dearie. After we're done," he gestured between the two of them, "you can do as you please. Marry the boy, for all I care. Just remember that we have another deal."

Belle frowned, puzzled. "How do you mean?"

"You promised," he drew the word out, "that every moment you spent with him, you would spend an equal amount with me."

Hesitancy colored her features. "While he was teaching me to read..."

"Well," he looked away, then back up, taking a step towards her. "You weren't very specific."

"What - are you saying exactly?" she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm saying, love, that by all means do as you please as far as Galen is concerned. Marry him. Have a dozen children. Grow old together. Just remember that you'll owe me for every second."

He moved behind her, placing a hand around her wrist and the other at her waist, turning her to face their reflections. She struggled slightly, but his grip was firm. He met her eyes in the mirror.

"There are a few choices on how we can arrange it. We could continue as we are, dividing our time, meeting late at night in the bushes," he pressed his cheek against hers, grinning. "But I imagine your husband would have a few questions about it. In any case, I don't really enjoy sharing. I think..." he wrapped the arm at her waist more firmly around her, letting his open palm caress her skirt. "I think I like the idea better of turning back the clock, making you young again, to live another life with me." He closed his eyes, pressing a soft kiss against her neck just below her ear as Belle looked on, her eyes wide and horrified.

"You can't. This isn't fair. You tricked me," tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

"Yes," his reply was muffled against her skin. He lifted his head. "You belong to me, Belle," his fingers ran over the material of her skirt, she could feel the heat and pressure of his touch through it. "And one piece - one minute at a time, you're going to give yourself to me," he lowered his face to her neck again, inhaling deeply.

"There has to be a way out." She spoke out loud, more to herself than him.

He smiled against her neck again. "Well, perhaps if you found true love."

"True love?"

"It's the most powerful magic there is," he shifted away from her, loosening his hold. "Maybe even more powerful than me. If you can find it, of course."

She moved back from him, out of his grip. Dragging up her own stubbornness and anger through the fear she felt, she shot back at him. "I could love Galen."

"Oh?" He wasn't looking at her.

"Yes," she plowed forward. "He's kind, and strong and... handsome. Maybe I already love him," she clenched her fists, chin jutting forward in an expression of rebellion.

Rumplestiltskin's eyes were somber. He closed the distance between them, and cupped her face in his hands, placing a long but soft kiss against her lips. It seemed like some time before he drew back, eyes grazing over her. He stepped away.

"No, you don't."

Before she could argue with him further, he was gone.

* * *

**Points if you can tell me the name the book Rumplestiltskin was reading from. A zillion points if you can do it without looking it up. :)**


End file.
